


A Change of Being

by Lexitennant2



Series: God Pairs Up Angels and Demons [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Loves his Houseplants (Good Omens), Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), F/M, Geraldine is the sweetest, I made Crowley Raphael again because why not, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 22:53:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19840195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexitennant2/pseuds/Lexitennant2
Summary: A protection spell has an outcome that makes Crowley extremely vulnerable. Beelzebub becomes, just a little bit more good, and Gabriel, just a little bit more bad.





	A Change of Being

Anathema was a witch, and a polite person, so when the angel and demon walked in, the latter carrying a rather large fly, she took it all in stride.

"And who is this?" She cooed, figuring that the approach one would take with a rather cute puppy would work well for the fuzzy, red eyed beast.

Crowley muttered something while Aziraphale hurried to introduce the witch to their newest companion.

"So this little one belongs to the demon from the airbase then?"

"Yup." Crowley said popping the 'p' at the end of the word, and setting the fly down on the kitchen table, which was much cleaner and thankfully rid of all the wedding magazines. 

"Her names Geraldine. She's really quite lovely." Aziraphale assured Anathema.

Anathema hesitantly reached out her hand and patted the fly on her head. Geraldine gave a very loud buzz that was equivalent of a purr and Anathema smiled.

"Well, what brings you two to my cottage?" Anathema brought up the subject at hand, still giving the fly some gentle pats.

"Well, we had this idea-"

" _You_ had the idea."

Crowley cut himself off to give the angel a scathing look, and continued. 

" _I_ had an idea that you might be able to help us with a bit of a problem we're having."

Anathema frowned in thought. "I'm not sure I have anything that'll do much good for you. You're both non-human so I don't know how the spells will apply to you both. What kind of spells are you looking for?"

"Something like a cloaking spell? Or something that will ward away unwanted _pests."_

"What sort of pests are we talking about?"

"Oh, just your garden variety archangel and Lord of Hell." Crowley smiled.

Anathema did her best to not looked shocked by this revelation, and instead told them she'd have to look through her books, but they should make themselves at home while they waited. Anathema went to walk away, but Geraldine surprised the room by zooming onto her head.

"She seems to like you." Crowley smirked, aware that Aziraphale was pouting at the fly's sudden attention towards Anathema.

Anathema blushed and left the room.

Geraldine seemed to have wormed her way into everyone's hearts in a matter of minutes, but Crowley was glad he could have some alone time with his angel while the witch went off to look for her book, looking like a rather more feminine and taller Beelzebub.

Crowley slid closer to Aziraphale, pulling the shorter man into a loose embrace from behind, his arms lacing together around the angel's belly.

"Why do you think those two are still after us?" Aziraphale asked, the question hanging in the air. Crowley tightened his hold and rested his pointed chin on Aziraphale's shoulder. The angel let himself sink further into the backwards embrace, the two of them in domestic bliss of a newly engaged couple. Of which they sort of were. 

"If I know anything about Gabriel, it's because God hasn't given her approval yet to his idea. Sure, there's been no outright word from her saying we should be punished, especially now that we're in a relationship, but he's very stubborn always liked it when God praised him and his plans."

Crowley placed a gentle kiss under Aziraphale's ear, unaware at the moment that the angel had stiffened in his embrace.

"Also, I'm pretty sure his pissed about the whole breathing fire thing. Nearly singed his suit, it was quite nice too I must admit. It was probably a Brioni, or maybe a Canali-"

"I'm sorry dear but what on Earth are you talking about?"

The angel twisted in the demons arms and Crowley looked down in confusion, peering over the top of his sunglasses.

"What d'you mean?" Crowley was at a loss, running over what he had said in his head to see what he had said wrong.

"Gabriel seeking her approval. He's always doing what he wants, he's basically God up there-oh no I shouldn't have said that. That's blasphemy oh dear." Aziraphale was starting to pull out of the embrace, anxiety twisting his features, but Crowley held him tight.

"He's _always_ seeked her approval, "Crowley didn't flinch when Aziraphale took off his sunglasses, he was used to this turn of events by now, "he may act as he's the top dog but he always does it with the fear and anticipation of Gods approval."

"You're not lying." The angel breathed out, his brows furrowed together as he studied Crowley's eyes.

"Not lying? Of course I'm not lying." Crowley huffed.

"It never occurred to me that he would do everything he does for the sake of her approval. We angels are supposed to serve God of course, and her approval is what we seek. But the way he acts one would think he didn't much care for her approval anymore. And you, you're talking about him as if know him more than the few times you have been in his presence." Aziraphale was looking at him with suspicion and Crowley licked his lips in a nervous tell.

Crowley never talked about his past. There was no reason too. What had been done had been done, and any talk of revenge or forgiveness had flown out the door by the time he'd slithered into Eden.

There was a throat clearing and a familiar buzz, and the two turned to see Anathema in the kitchen doorway with several books in her arms. Geraldine was hovering by her right ear, looking as dejected as a fly could. Crowley could tell the fly was missing her master, and he wondered if this had been the longest the two had ever been parted.

Crowley then surprised them all by jumping about a foot away from Aziraphale, and snatching his glasses back rather rudely and shoving them back onto his face.

"Let's see what books you've brought shall we." He stated and grabbed the top two thickest tomes out of Anathema's arms.

He could feel Aziraphale's gaze on him, he looked up momentarily and then shoved his nose into the index of one of the books, squinting at the small print.

Aziraphale's gaze had been filled with hurt, but also a look that made Crowley know that they would be continuing the earlier conversation.

Oh why did he have to open his big dumb mouth?

After several moments of Anathema and Aziraphale situating themselves around the table to go through the books, there was only silence, broken by pages being turned and Geraldine's buzzing. 

They were about two hours into reading - only taking breaks for tea and sweets. Geraldine was given a small dish of apple nectar that Aziraphale had miracled up for her, and was now napping on top of Aziraphale's head. The angel had gone crossed eyed, looking up trying to see the giant fly, which had made Crowley double over in laughter. The angel had scowled at him, but when Crowley had finally stopped laughing, the angel had given a small smile.

The tension between them drained away, but Crowley knew that even with the angels forgiveness, there would still be questions.

A light tapping to his shoulder startled him out of the little reading he'd managed to do - he was a snake, so reading wasn't exactly his forte. His eyes couldn't read very well, and he was starting to get a headache. But he was stubborn and he really wanted to never deal again with trouble from his superior and the archangel, so he kept reading even as his eyes burned and blurred.

Anathema was standing over him with a tentative smile. He scrunched his eyebrows together, wondering when she had moved.

"I remembered our talk, a little before the wedding. I said I might be able to find you some old reading glasses?"

She offered up her hand, where a dark green glasses case rested in it. Crowley took it from her and opened it, taking in the pair of white rimmed glasses that had lenses almost as thick as Anathema's.

"They were my fathers. My mother told me that he had absolutely horrible sight when it came to seeing up close, and that these were one of his first pairs. They were much thicker by the time he died." Anathema smiled sadly, with a little quirk of her lip at an attempt at humor.

Crowley swallowed a lump in his throat and removed his own sunglasses to replace them with the new ones. He then looked down at the pages of the book in front of him. There wasn't much change, he didn't think he'd ever be able to read comfortably because his eyes were just not meant for that, but the pages were indeed a little clearer, and he figured that would help immensely with reading for longer periods of time.

"How are they?" Aziraphale asked softly.

"Good. Very helpful." His throat was constricting weirdly and he didn't feel like himself. 

Aziraphale leaned across the table to put a hand on Crowley's forearm, seeming to know exactly how Crowley was feeling. In doing so, Geraldine had been woken up, and she gave a disgruntled buzz.

"Thank you, Anathema." He gritted out the words. He was very grateful, she was one of the few who had ever shown kindness to him, but it still felt hard to be _nice_ or polite to people. To show how deeply affected he was by this small gesture. 

He dodged Aziraphale's hand by standing up.

He did an exaggerated stretch, and told them that he needed to go for a little walk. He liked to lounge, but his body wasn't made for sitting straight in a hard wooden chair for two hours straight.

He was vaguely aware that he was mirroring his last visit here, escaping the to the garden when it all got a bit to much.

When he opened the door, Geraldine leaped off of Aziraphale's head, and followed him out.

* * *

Gabriel wasn't the type of person to really dwell on life. He was an angel, and like many celestial or occult beings, angels did not have much fear of death. There were very few things that could discorporate an angel, hell fire and special blades were among a short list. There were rumors of a spiral shaped sword in America that slayed angels left and right, and was wielded by a tall man with long hair. But Gabriel didn't find any credit with that story.

Gabriel was rarely on Earth, only stopping in on occasion to check up on Aziraphale and try and make an effort to like the planet God had made. But everytime he came down, the one thing he'd liked from his last visit had been stripped and rebuilt, or simply vanished into nothingness.

One thing he'd never liked over the many years he'd come down to Earth, were the cars. He could never quite put a finger on it, but cars to him were unethical. Humans had feet, angels had wings, why not use what you were given for transportation was his way of thinking.

But right now he had a perfect understanding of why he didn't like cars. They most certainly must be on the list of things that can kill angels, and he wondered how Aziraphale had lasted so long in that black old fashioned car.

Beelzebub was hurtling them down a freeway, their grip tight on the wheel.

The car was old, with faded tan paint and rust spots, but it was moving like it had the engine of a newly made sports car.

They had almost crashed into three pedestrians, ran over multiple sidewalks, and were now zig-zagging through the M25's traffic lanes. Gabriel was clutching the dashboard of the vehicle tightly, denting the plastic into the shape of his finger tips.

Beelzebub was staring intently towards the road, their car seat pushed as far up as it would go. Their flies were droning out the music coming through the stereo, but Gabriel was sure it was new hip hop song, judging by the bass that thrummed along with the hum of the flies.

"How close are we?" Gabriel yelled over the noise, wearily looking out at the sun which was low in the sky.

It had been about three hours since they'd all been in the park, but it had taken a long while for Gabriel and Beelzebub to get the car. Gabriel had wanted to do it the proper way, get it from a dealer as the humans did. The honest way. But Beelzebub kept buzzing at him and pointing out multiple cars that were just free for the taking.

Gabriel had walked into the dealership and immediately turned around. The aura of the place was overwhelming, and he decided that letting Beelzebub steal a car was much safer than going into the Lions den of lying humans. 

He was sort of regretting this decision, now that he had his knees pressed uncomfortably close to his chest since the car Beelzebub had chosen to drive wasn't suited for adult humans over the height of 4'3. Even Beelzebub seemed cramped in the car.

"It's diszzorientating. They're szzzomewhere that is very hard to find, it szzeems to be warded. Its like trying to look through those glasszz things humanszz are szzo fond of, a kaleidoszzcope. But we are closzze."

Gabriel nodded, and made an odd wheezing sound when Beelzebub merged in between two large trucks.

He'd be very glad once they had gotten out of his death trap. Very glad indeed.

* * *

It was a rather strange feeling to have Geraldine on his head, but it wasn't an unwelcome feeling. 

He had went around the front of the house, to the back. His legs swinging out in front of one another in a lazy glide as they unhurriedly brought him to the the gate that enclosed the back of the house.

He pushed through it, the old gate creaking with protest as the ground beneath him changed to old circular stones. The stones split off into two pathways, one leading off to a vegetable patch, the others to a flower patch. Closer to the house there were two iron chair with blue padded cushions, and a rickety looking water fountain that had a toad statute and a bird feeder hanging off of it. The grass was neatly trimmed, and Crowley had a sudden sense of longing as he looked out to see the sky starting to change from a pale blue to cotton candy pink and lush purple.

His attention was caught by familiar blue and orange flowers, growing among the common roses, marigolds, and petunias. He was pleasantly surprised, he didn't think that they would have grown for Anathema, or that the witch would have even planted the one he had given to put in her wedding bouquet.

He took the pathway leading over there, and squatted down. Not caring that he was getting mud on his pointed snake skin shoes.

The flowers all remembered him from the last time he'd been there, and they all trembled. The blue and orange one stood tall among the others, shaking the least, deeming itself the protector of the other flowers. It was the oldest after all.

"I see you lot have been growing." His voice was stern as he inspected each plant. "You are all to keep growing large and beautiful you hear? I don't want you to let down _me,_ or Anathema." He gave them an even sterner look in than his voice, and straightened up. 

"Good work though." He said gently.

The flowers now trembled in confusion, and Crowley stuck his hands in his jeans pockets, suddenly aware that he really was getting _soft_ , with the more time he spent with the angel.

There would have been a time where Crowley would have snarled with delight at the terror his plants produced when he walked into the room. His "Grow better!" echoing and seeping into the pores of their leaves. Maybe he was getting old, maybe it was Aziraphale. Maybe it was a mixture of both that made him want to talk more kindly to his plants, that made him think of silly human things like weddings, and maybe moving out here, away from the stuff city and his cold and modern flat.

There was a shift in the air, and a cooling breeze ruffled what hair he had that wasn't covered by Geraldine. 

"You miss your master huh?" He asked, and Geraldine seemed to understand he was addressing her.

She buzzed softly, and shifted a little in his hair, nuzzling deeper into his red roots as the breeze picked up.

He wondered how long they had, this little bit of peace, before Beelzebub and Gabriel came and wrecked it all. 

He tilted his head up, and looked once more up at the sky. There was now a sorbet orange mingling with the other colors, only little hints of blue peeking through.

He faintly remembered a time where he was much closer to the light of the skies. The air was much cleaner and cooler up there, and you could see everything from above there. There wasn't much to see, just endless desert, and a stone wall being built around a magnificent garden, but the warm colors of the setting sun made everything just a touch more beautiful.

Crowley remembered a time when there were two suns, and the sand had been a nice, dark black, that sparkled in the morning. By the time Aziraphale and the other angels had been created, by the time the garden had been finished and Adam had taken his first steps, the world Crowley had known was gone. God had tweaked everything to be tan sand, and one sun, and Crowley had already fallen.

Aziraphale found him, still looking up at the sky as the sun finally vanished. Leaving the sky a brilliant dark blue.

"I'll tell you what it was like." Crowley whispered, not needing to make himself any clearer to the angel, who understood immediately. 

"Come on inside dear, Anathema thinks she's found the right spell." Aziraphale placed a gentle hand around Crowley's waist, and pulled him back towards the cottage.

Crowley took one last look at the sky as they walked inside, and he thought to himself.

_Not yet, but soon angel I'll tell you. I'll let you know who I used to be._

* * *

Anathema didn't look up from the plate of food in front of her when her front door was banged open, and a short figure demanded to know "Where are they? I can szzzmell them."

Newt choked on a slice of lamb he'd just cut and looked torn between trying to protect the two of them from the intruders, or trying to get his airway unclogged.

The taller of the figures - wearing an expensive grey suit and had brown hair that framed handsome features - snapped his fingers with a sigh and Newt stopped choking.

"They're not here." Anathema said calmly, take a moment to use her knife to spread some horseradish on her bit of lamb. "They left ages ago."

Beelzebub gave a mighty groan that was amplified by irritate buzzing.

"But I can szztill feel them." Beelzebub argued.

"That's because they left Geraldine behind. They figured you might as well have her back, seeing as she's missed you terribly." Anathema finally looked up from her plate and studied the auras of the beings in front of her. 

They were quite similar to Crowley and Aziraphale's auras, but only in the sense that it was painful for Anathema to look at them. Where as Aziraphale's was a bright white and silver aurora, almost as bright as the sun, the taller figures - who Anathema deducted was Gabriel - was a dull purple and blue mixture. The same was for Beelzebub, who had a dark red aura that lacked the shine and brightness that Crowley's gold one had.

Anathema stood with an air of authority. Newt stayed silent, his eyes flicking between his wife and the newcomers. He knew how to pick his battles, and had already come to terms that shoving his way into something he didn't understand would only end up with more trouble. And possible injury on his end.

Anathema came back into the room, cuddling close to her chest a furry mass of buzzing.

Newt jumped in his seat as the furry mass turned large red eyes towards him and then towards the short person in the doorway and began to hum even louder.

It all but leapt out of Anathema's arms in its excitement to reunite with Beelzebub, who eagerly caught the speedy fly in their arms. The smaller flies swarmed closer, greeting their friend with just as much excitement, and dare say, _love_.

"Szzhe's not hurt?" Beelzebub asked. Anathema assumed they were shocked, but their tone and expression were indifferent.

"Yes..why wouldn't she be?" Anathema asked slowly.

"Becausszze Crowley is a demon and we are chasszzing after him. Why wouldn't he try to harm a part of me? Make me vulnerable?"

"Well, from what I gather, it was _you,_ not them who used Geraldine, you willingly left Geraldine at their mercy."

Beelzebub bristled, for the first time showing a flicker of emotion.

"It waszz not I, it wasszzz him." They snarled, pointing a thin finger at Gabriel.

"It was fast thinking." Gabriel spoke with a deep and sweet voice, like too sweet honey. He crossed his arms over his chest and pouted, seemed to become aware of what he was doing, and uncrossed his arms, letting them hang back at his side. His face became a stone wall, his eyes flicking around the room showing disgust and curiosity.

"Well either way, Crowley and Aziraphale would _never_ hurt Geraldine, or anyone else for that matter."

Anathema returned to her seat, and put the piece of her lamb that she'd spread horseradish sauce onto moments before into her mouth and grimaced at the meat that had lost its warmth.

"They're quite fond of Geraldine, as am I."

Beelzebub squinted at Anathema and then looked down to the fly in their arms.

"Fond?" Beelzebub asked quietly.

They were looking lost, almost like a small child that has just been told that their drawings are actually very lovely, after all other comments they have heard have been their father telling them they can't draw for shit.

Gabriel sensed that the conversation was not going in the direction he wanted and interjected, with a charming smile. "Where did those two men go my good woman?"

His voice seemed less sweet as he talked down to Anathema in a way that reminded her of an old man.

She raised an eyebrow at his sentence, noticing that even Beelzebub was looking weirdly at him as they put Geraldine back on her head.

Gabriel just smiled onwards, waiting for an answer.

Anathema waited him out til the silence became unbearable before answering, "I really couldn't tell you."

Beelzebub cocked their head to the side, and buzzed in confusion. Gabriel stood tall and menacing.

"What?" He snapped.

"I really couldn't tell you. I really couldn't. They cast a spell where you won't be able to find them, not without a counter spell or if they want to be found." Anathema smiled smugly, unaware of the mistake she'd just made.

Beelzebub buzzed in disappointment, but seemed almost glad that they didn't have any means of finding the demon and angel. Beelzebub, had been moved for a second, that Crowley hadn't touched a feeler on Geraldine. It was in that second that everything pivoted for Beelzebub. The world was no longer black and white, demon and angel. They were back in the soft clouded sky, spinning round and round as the sky behind them changed from a brilliant blue to a deep and gorgeous shade of purple, much like Gabriels eyes.

Gabriel on the other hand was going in a different direction. He had become hard after the fall. The angel that would have certainly love humanity, and cherished its little inventions, was now going through a war inside his head. To be this new angel, that seemed to be the leader of all the others and whom all the others looked up to, or the curious little angel that looked up to his older siblings and laughed with delight when he saw a certain black haired angel spinning to music only they could hear.

But because time had passed, _so much time_ had gone by, the darker, bitter, and more sad part took over. The side of him that had felt powerful when leading Aziraphale to a hellfired doom coursed through his form. He _was_ , the _Archangel "fucking" Gabriel._

He reached Newt in a short amount of time, his long legs dominating the small kitchen. He raised the boy out of his seat, clenching the collar of his shirt tightly in his fist. He could have grabbed him by the throat, but a small part of Gabriel had stopped him. He held the boy high in air, the boy trembling in his hold, hands scrambling to pull Gabriel's hand off his shirt.

"Now, you said something about a counter spell?"

Gabriel's cruel smile, filled the kitchen, draining it of its warmth and replacing it with a sterile coldness.

And an archangel becomes just a little bit more demon.

* * *

Crowley parked the Bentley in front of a worn down looking cottage, about fifty miles east of Tadfield. It was much like Anathema's cottage, though a tad bit smaller and lacking a front gate. The gravel path crunched under snake skin pointed shoes, and leather loafers as they walked up to the cottage. 

Crowley miracled the door open and locked it behind them, motioning for Aziraphale to hurry up with the spell. 

The angel dropped the objects Anathema had given them onto a sturdy oak kitchen table, causing a swirl of dust to raise up into the air.

Crowley blinked rapidly, trying to keep the dust away from his eyes. His sunglasses were still sitting in his jacket pocket, resting next to his reading glasses.

He helped the angel sort out their items; one white candle, one orange candle, two inches of thin string, a foot of brown rope, an ounce of chopped up cloves, rosemary, and thyme, and a browned parchment that contained the spell.

They looked down at their spread, taking a pause, a breath, as their reality came crashing down on them.

This spell, as Anathema had explained, had been found to have side effects that weren't necessarily good. And this was when it had been applied to humans. No one knew what would happen to a celestial and an occult being, but these were desperate times.

Anathema had gathered everything for them, before copying down some extra notes and translations so there was no possibility of the spell getting messed up. Before they had left the Jasmine Cottage, they managed to set up a little light that would start flickering whenever Beelzebub or Gabriel came within an hour of the cottage. They gave Geraldine another bowl of sweet nectar and petted her goodbye. Then they each were given a very tight hug from Anathema, and a small box tied with twine that Anathema told them to open once they'd finished the spell at the abandoned cottage.

Anathema and Newt had burned the second book of prophecies, but Agnes, being a prophetess, had prepared a third book. This one was much smaller, and much vaguer than the first prophecies, and Anathema knew not to burn this one, for this wasn't just her future anymore. She had made sure to put it in the small box she'd given them as they'd fled the cottage, the light they'd set up flickering madly.

Agnes had told her about a perfect hiding spot, a cottage named Hollythorn, and that was were Crowley and Aziraphale should stay.

Anathema had ended up finding the spell after consulting the new prophecy book, and it was spell that made sure that no one would find those two unless they had the counter spell, or the two wanted to be found. Anathema was of course the holder of the counter spell, and was certain she'd never have to worry about it.

But unbeknownst to them, and even Agnes, Gabriel had been made from two sides of one coin, and he had chosen a pathway that way back then would have threatened him with the fall.

"Here's to coming out on the other side." Aziraphale said grimly, and Crowley felt a shiver run over up his spine. There was an energy in the house, one that didn't seem to be affecting Aziraphale as much as it was affecting Crowley.

Crowley had a terrible feeling, that the only one who be affected by the side effects would be himself.

Aziraphale was mouthing the words of the notes Anathema had wrote, as he started making the spell. Crowley helped as much as he could, a sinking feeling in his stomach the entire time. 

Out of the two of them, he'd never been much for spells and charms, so he just grabbed things that Aziraphale needed and let the angel do most of the work.

Aziraphale requested a brown wooden bowl to be filled with sea water, and Crowley miracled it into existence, following the angels instructions to start soaking the herbs in the water. The angel then made a complicated looking knot out of the brown rope - a Lark's head knot.

He then tied the two candles together with the white thread, and with a snap of his fingers they were alight. He soaked the rope in the water with the herbs as Crowley waited on, the only tell of his anxiety a bite of his lip and a worried look in his snake yellow eyes.

Aziraphale pulled the rope out of the bowel and set it down carefully, then moved the two candles to sit in the large holes of the Lark's head knot. He went to grab the old parchment paper with the spell on it, but Crowley blocked his hand.

Crowley was acting quite foolishly he felt, as he pressed himself against Aziraphale, his slender arms wrapping around Aziraphale's properly rounded form. He dipped his head down and kissed the angel with as much force as he could. The kiss bruising yet still very sweet. The desperation showed through him as Crowley wound one hand into the soft white blonde locks of his angel, and the other hand splayed flat against the angel's lower back, pressing in so there was no space between the angel and demon.

Aziraphale made a truly _delectable_ noise and Crowley swallowed it into the kiss, his palms becoming sweaty and clammy as his bodies nerves clashed with arousal and fear. 

"What was that for." Aziraphale asked when they pulled away, his eyes dazed and his lips strawberry red from the kissing.

Crowley swallowed the lump in his throat, and pulled even further away, smoothing down Aziraphale's rumpled waistcoat in an attempt to distract the angel.

"Nothing, jus' thought why not kiss you. You look rather _sexy_ in candle light." Crowley used a wink to cover his growing unease. 

Aziraphale blushed a bright red and he spent a few moments trying to get his attention back to the spell at hand. Crowley always had a way to make him breathless and unaware after a kiss. Dear lord who knew what would happen to him when they went...further.

Aziraphale began speaking, the english and latin fell from his tongue.

> Protect the protected
> 
> hide the hidden
> 
> Qui affecto protego,
> 
> mixtisque iubas serpentibus et posteris meis stirpiqu

Crowley looked on, the unease growing. It didn't seem like much was happening, but he felt the hairs on the back of his arms and neck rising. He shuffled back a step from the table, and willed himself to get over the silly notion that the air was becoming heavier, and that the knot on the table seemed to be writhing around like a snake.

Aziraphale was starting to glow a bright silver, the air crackled with electricity and the sweet smell of vanilla and nutmeg. Crowley looked down at his own body and saw it glowing a rich gold, the scent of cinnamon and smoke mixing in with the vanilla and nutmeg.

Aziraphale's eyes were shinning a brilliant ice blue, and a shadow raised up high behind him, showing multiple limbs and wings. The room was trembling with the power in the room, and Crowley knew that if he looked behind him, his own shadow would be mirroring Aziraphale's. 

There was a sharp pain in Crowley's side as Aziraphale finished the spell, and the demon collapsed to his knees.

He was faintly aware of the angel looking towards him, waves of worry and love vibrating through the air. Crowley was reminded of the _fall,_ similar in the way he felt like he was burning. But he knew this was something else. It tugged at his heart and his stomach, his body going cold and hot all at once. His vision was doubling as he tried to tear off his clothes in between the flashes of cool; his skin almost boiling.

He could hear Aziraphale calling out to him, but soon his hearing was overtaken by a high pitched whine as he wriggled on the floor. 

He was freely sobbing, throwing away his tie and jacket across the room as the heat and the pain flashed through him; his body shivering with a cold that shouldn't be possible.

Crowley let out an almost inhuman howl as his body spasmed.

But suddenly it stopped. The glowing was gone from their bodies, the tension overhanging had fled. Crowley stayed curled up, trying to catch his breath-

Crowley's eyes shot open in panic as he scrambled to get up, nearly knocking his head into Aziraphale's as the angel bent down to help his lover up.

Crowley was shivering, his upper half exposed for he was only now wearing a black tank top, in the early September breeze made its way into the cottage through nooks and crannies. His breathing was unnatural and he felt hollow and heavy.

"Aziraphale." His voice croaked out, he clenched his eyes shut and he fell into the angel, who rushed to keep them both steady.

Even his voice sounded different, it was still the same voice, but it lacked the hissing undertone. Crowley had a terrible feeling he knew what had happened, as he was forced to calm down his breathing and his beating heart.

He had _never_ _needed_ to breathe before.

His fear were confirmed when he opened his eyes and Aziraphale almost dropped him in surprise. 

"Cr-Crowley, your eyes." Aziraphale reached up and tenderly cupped his face, and Crowley flinched at the sudden contact of a _much_ to warm hand. Aziraphale had never been too warm for him before. 

The angel's brows furrowed in confusion and hurt as the demon - but not demon anymore - flinched in his touch. He started to move his hand away, but Crowley was stubborn and covered Aziraphale's pudgy pale hand with his own thin shaky and weak hand, keeping it there. He didn't care if his flesh melted off his face, he wanted to reassure his angel that he was ok with the touch, what was a little pain between lover anyways?

Aziraphale's blue eyes were filled with emotions that Crowley could no longer feel and could only see.

Blue eyes, that once were overjoyed at seeing the neon and electric golden yellow eyes, with their vertical slits and impossibly long red lashes, were now staring into normal brown eyes with flecks of gold in them.

The angel and the demon, stood embraced, taking each other in now that everything was _very different._

For the second time in his entire life, as the reality set in that _Crowley_ was now _human_ , Aziraphale swore.

"Oh fuck."


End file.
